Chapter Forty Five.
An Elevated Graveyard.
Just as the last glimmer of twilight is taking departure from the plain, the three who had sought concealment under the roosting-place of macaws, slip quietly out of the copse, and ride away from it, leaving the noisy birds, now silent, behind them.
There is yet light enough to enable them to take bearings by the hill, which, as they have rightly conjectured, rises over the Tovas town; and, heading direct towards it, after a couple of hours spent in riding at a brisk pace, they arrive at the rocky steep forming a periphery to its base. As there is now a clear moonlight, caution dictates their again getting under cover; which they do by drawing their horses close in to the adjacent cliff, whose shadow sufficiently conceals them. But it is not intended to stay long there. At their last halting-place they had considered everything, and decided upon the steps to be taken; so far as they can, from what is known to them. If the circumstances change, or turn out different from what they are expecting, they must be guided in their action accordingly.
Still in the belief of Naraguana being alive, Ludwig is again of the opinion that they should push on to the town without further delay. The place cannot now be far-off; for at the hill’s base they have struck a broad and much-travelled trail denoting the proximity of a settlement. Cypriano is undecided, but Gaspar, as before, goes strongly against proceeding directly onward.
“You speak of delay, Señor Ludwig,” he says; “but in this case, the old adage, ‘More haste less speed,’ might be true, as it often is. Besides, what would we gain by entering their town now? It isn’t likely we should accomplish anything to-night. You forget the hour it is—nigh unto midnight. And as the custom of most Chaco Indians is early to bed and early to rise, we’d no doubt find every redskin of them asleep, with only their dogs to receive us. Carrai! A nice reception that would be! Like as not some scores of half-famished curs to fall upon us—perhaps drag us out of our saddles. Whereas, in the morning all would be different, with the people up to protect us from such an assault. But whether we enter at night, or by day, I still stick to the belief, that it will be better to do so by stealth; at least, one of us should first slip in that way, and learn how the land lies. In any case, we ought to have a squint at this Sacred Town, before trusting ourselves within its walls—if walls it have. From the look of things here, I fancy it lies on the other side of this hill. By climbing the hill now, and staying on its top till daybreak, we’ll get a god view of the town, which will, no doubt, be right under us. We can see all through the streets, and what’s going on in them. That will give us a hint of how to act afterwards, and if things look favourable, we might then ride boldly in; which, after all, may be the best way of introducing ourselves—only it should be done in the daylight.”
Cypriano sees that the gaucho’s reasoning is correct; and Ludwig also acknowledging it to be so, it is finally decided that they ascend the hill, and remain upon its summit for the rest of that night.
But now comes a question not hitherto asked, or thought of. How is the ascent to be made, and where is there a path practicable for making it? Not only is it steep, but its sides are thickly overgrown with trees, and between their trunks a dense tangle of underwood.
“It must be on its summit, they have their burying-ground,” observes Gaspar, gazing upward. “Yes; Naraguana spoke of its being on the top of a hill, and there’s no other hill near. If that be the case, and they carry their dead up, there’ll sure be some sort of a road for their funeral processions. That would likely be on the other side, straight up from the town. But I warrant there’s a trail starts from this side too, and runs right over the hill. Let’s ride along a bit, and see if there be.”